Twenty Questions
by Red Witch
Summary: The staff at the agency has to fill out some personal evaluation forms for the CIA. This can't be good.


**The CIA took the disclaimer that I don't own any Archer characters. Just some fun and madness from my mind.**

 **Twenty Questions**

"All right you slackers!" Mallory called her staff into her office. "I have some bad news."

"You're dying of cancer?" Pam asked.

"No," Mallory snapped.

"You're dying of liver failure!" Pam asked.

"No!" Mallory glared at her. "I'm…"

"Dying of an inoperable brain tumor!" Pam added.

"Damn it Pam! I'm **not dying**!" Mallory snapped.

"Yeah she said bad news, not **good news**!" Cheryl snorted.

"Oh. Is Cheryl dying?" Pam pointed to Cheryl.

"That also goes under good news and sadly no," Mallory sighed. "I called you in here because the CIA wants us to fill out these personal evaluation forms and send them in by the end of the day."

This was met with groans and grunts. Except for Pam who cheered.

"YAAAAAAAAAY!" She jumped up and down clapping excitedly.

"Personal evaluation forms?" Archer snapped. " **That's** what you called us in here for?"

"Yes so sorry they're taking up some of your valuable drinking time!" Mallory snapped.

"Why are we doing this?" Archer asked.

"Because the CIA in its infinite wisdom **said so!"** Mallory snapped. "After you and Cheryl turned the last forms into Kitty Litter they sent over some more."

"Ugh I hate these damn things!" Archer groaned.

"I love them!" Pam said cheerfully.

"Of course you do," Ray groaned. "The rest of us not so much!"

"I'm not exactly thrilled about this either Miss Gillette!" Mallory snapped. "Apparently I have to fill this out too!"

"You're **kidding**?" Lana gave her a look.

"I wish to God I was," Mallory groaned as she took the papers on her desk. "Take a form and fill it out! As honestly as you can! That means you Sterling! I don't want this to be a repeat of your high school aptitude test!"

"Those test takers just can't take a joke," Archer frowned.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble that stunt cost me?" Mallory snapped. "I had to bribe those psychologists in order to convince them you weren't psychotic!"

"Not so sure that diagnostic is off the mark," Lana quipped.

"Oh ha, ha Lana! Very funny!" Archer glared at her.

"It is actually," Lana shot back.

"You know these things are stupid and a complete waste of time right?" Archer asked. "We'd all be better off if we didn't do this. If the CIA asks we'll just say Carol burned them!"

"It's Cheryl and…"Cheryl stopped. "That's not a bad idea. Does anyone have a lighter?"

"Shut up all of you! Now take these stupid forms and fill them out at your desks! I want it done within the next thirty minutes!" Mallory handed them out one at a time. "If I have to suffer through this so do the rest of you!"

"Yaaaaayyy!" Pam cheered as she practically skipped out of the room.

"Pam stop skipping! You'll destroy the building's foundation!" Mallory snapped.

"Why does she like these things?" Cyril groaned as they left to work on their forms. "Even I think they're boring and pointless."

"A very high bar to pass," Ray quipped.

"All right let's get this pointless bureaucratic crap over with," Mallory sighed as she put on her reading glasses and picked up a pen. "Instructions. Fill out forms to the best of your ability. When answering D. Always explain why."

"Question One: When is the time of day you feel the best about yourself?" Mallory read. "A, morning. B. Afternoon. C. Evening. D. Other. D. Depends on how big a hangover I have."

"D. Pretty much anytime as long as I have a drink, sex and don't have a hangover," Archer wrote as he sat at his desk.

"D. Any time I don't realize what a waking nightmare my life has become," Cyril groaned as he wrote at his desk.

"D. Glue sniffing time!" Cheryl wrote at her desk. "Or whenever I have choke sex."

"D. Both afternoon and evening. Depending on when I can sneak out of work," Ray wrote at his desk.

"D. Whatever time of day I am performing unnecessary bionic surgery," Krieger wrote at the lab table in his lab. "Or dissecting something."

"C. Evening," Lana wrote at her desk. "When I can go home and try to pretend to be normal."

"Question Two: What is your favorite color and why?" Mallory read aloud. "Gold of course. Or silver depending on which is more valuable."

"Black like my women," Krieger wrote. To this his virtual girlfriend went over and hit him on the arm. "OWWWWWW!"

"PIG!" The hologram sniffed and stormed off.

"YOU KNOW I DON'T CONSIDER THAT AN INSULT!" Krieger shouted. "Ow, that lil' hologram can punch."

"Any color that isn't grey!" Ray wrote angrily. "Because I'm **colorblind!"**

"Red. It's the color of fire, blood and more fire," Cheryl wrote. "Oh and my hair!"

"I like green," Lana wrote. "Not because it's the color of money. I know a lot of people will think that but not me. I like green because of the environment. And stuff. Like money…"

"Orange. Because I look good in orange," Pam wrote. "Which is really lucky whenever I end up in jail."

"If we're talking outfits black," Archer wrote. "Because black is slimming and practical for work and never goes out of style. And the color of my hair which is perfect. But if we're talking visual aesthetics I have to go with steel blue because that's the color of my eyes. And the preferred color of a prostitute's eyes."

"I've always been kind of partial to plaid," Cyril shrugged as he wrote.

"Question Three: How do you physically act when talking to people?" Mallory read. "A. Arms folded. B. Hands clasped. C. Hands on hips. D. Other."

She paused and then wrote. "D, drink in my hand."

"D. Fist connecting to chin," Pam wrote. "Unless I have a drink in my hand."

"D. Drink in my hand," Archer wrote.

"D. Drink in my hand," Ray wrote.

"D. Cowering in my seat hopefully with a drink in my hand," Cyril sighed.

"D. Drink or cattle prod in my hand," Krieger wrote.

"A. Arms folded," Lana wrote. "Unless I have a drink in my hand. So technically it's both A and D. Of course sometimes I have hands on my hips in outrage so it's C too."

"D. Glue in my hand!" Cheryl wrote cheerfully. "Or an ice pick."

"Question Four: Describe your most common dream," Mallory read. "That's a tough one."

"I'd say it's me bouncing naked on a giant cocaine cupcake and having a threesome with two Japanese guys and Rona Thorne," Pam wrote. "Or any blonde bimbo actually."

"Being a dictator again," Cyril wrote. "Only this time I get to kill Archer. In several differently gruesome ways. And banging Lana."

"Being the Queen of Mars!" Cheryl wrote.

"Being turned into a God damn Decepticon," Ray wrote.

"Creating a new race of cyborgs that take over the Earth," Krieger wrote. "Then becoming the new drummer for Rush!"

"God there's so many good sex dreams I've had," Archer thought. "I mean it's hard to decide on which one."

"I'd have to decide getting the Medal of Honor," Mallory admitted. "For shooting Trudy Beekman. After shooting Trudy Beekman. And having a threesome with Burt Reynolds and George Clooney on her corpse."

"Marrying Archer and…" Lana stopped. "What am I saying? I can't write **that!** I'll just put down a threesome with Billy Dee Williams and George Clooney."

"Eh I'll just put the threesome with me, Lana and Katya…"Archer wrote. "After winning the Cannonball Run. With a lemur."

"Question Five: Do you have any phobias or fears? And if so what are they?" Mallory read aloud. "That's easy. Fear of servant uprisings. And being broke."

"Alligators, crocodiles, cyborgs, brain aneurisms, Mother, the Bermuda Triangle," Archer wrote. "Burt Reynolds having a threesome with my mother and a cyborg…"

"I'm afraid I'll turn into Mallory Archer," Lana wrote. "Or my daughter will."

"Fear that this nightmare of my life will never end," Cyril wrote. "And that I'll never get laid again."

"Predator," Archer kept writing. "Cyborg Predator…"

"Turning into a complete robot and/or being paralyzed again," Ray groaned.

"Turning into a cyborg," Archer wrote. "Turning into a gay cyborg with terrible fashion sense. Losing my looks and turning into a short bald guy with a beard."

"Finding out that I am a clone of a clone of Hitler," Krieger wrote. "And giant radioactive Dobermans. Like the ones that killed my father. Of course those were regular Dobermans but still…"

"Dying alone," Pam wrote. "Which will probably happen to most of the people who work here."

"Being literally emasculated by my mother," Archer kept writing. "The Apocalypse. Servant uprisings which is technically the same thing as the Apocalypse only with less fire."

Cheryl thought before she wrote. "Realizing that I'm only a cartoon character in a made up world that isn't real but a construct of ideas and drawings. Oh and spiders."

"The Earth being invaded by aliens that are telepathic technologically advanced alligators and or crocodiles," Archer went on writing. "And a snake biting my taint. Again. But this time my dick falls off."

"Question Six: Have you ever had a mental breakdown?" Mallory read. "No. Came close a few times but no…"

"Nope!" Lana wrote. "Came close a few times but no."

"Uh define mental breakdown?" Archer blinked. "I'll just put probably. I mean one guy's mental breakdown is another man's spring break."

"Yes," Cyril sighed as he wrote down his answer.

"Yes," Ray admitted.

"I gotta be honest and say yes," Pam shrugged. "A brief one but yeah."

"Only one mental breakdown? No," Cheryl wrote. "Several yeah. But not one."

"Eh who **hasn't** had a mental breakdown?" Krieger wrote.

"Question Seven," Mallory read. "What makes you happy? That's easy. Money, power, alcohol, sex. In that order. Or all at once."

"Sex, annoying people and bullying my servant," Archer wrote. "Oh and alcohol."

"My daughter. And sex…" Lana wrote honestly. "And seeing Archer get the brunt of whatever stupid thing he does blow up in his face."

"Sex," Cyril wrote. "And Archer getting what he deserves."

"Sex, food, booze and more sex!" Pam wrote.

"Sex and fire!" Cheryl wrote. "As well as making Mallory Archer's life miserable."

"Sex," Ray wrote. "Money. Alcohol. And secretly dressing up like a geisha on Japanese Night at the Snug."

"Sex and vivisection!" Krieger wrote.

"Question Eight," Mallory went on. "What makes you cry? My son. My pathetic ingrate of a son."

"Pretty much everything," Ray wrote honestly. He started to sniff and cry.

"My whole horrible life!" Cyril moaned. "And the fact I'm no longer having sex with Lana."

"Whenever I have to put down any of my experiments that I'm attached to!" Krieger wrote.

"Any day I'm stuck working with Archer," Lana wrote. "And the horrible realization that I may have chosen the wrong career."

"Tear gas," Pam wrote.

"Hmmm…I'm gonna have to go with tear gas," Cheryl admitted. "And onions."

"Question Nine," Mallory read. "Name your favorite vacation spot. Hmmm that would be…"

"Whore Island!" Archer wrote enthusiastically. "Definitely Whore Island!"

"San Marcos!" Cyril wrote. "Before the Marines invaded."

"San Marcos," Lana sighed. "Despite the coup and the invading Marines."

"It's a toss-up between San Marcos and the penitentiary in Bermuda," Pam thought. "There were marines in both of them."

"Man Whore Island," Mallory wrote.

"Under the sewers," Krieger wrote.

"Choke Sex Dungeon," Cheryl wrote.

"Man Whore Island," Ray wrote.

"Question Ten," Mallory read. "When making decisions are you impulsive or careful? Careful obviously!"

"Definitely careful," Lana wrote.

"Completely careful," Archer wrote. "NOT! HA!"

"Careful but moving towards impulsive any day now," Cyril wrote. "When I'm ready."

"Both," Krieger wrote down. "Depending on how much time is on the clock and how much radiation is involved."

"Definitely impulsive," Pam scoffed.

"Careful except when it comes to dating," Ray wrote.

"You are not my supervisor!" Cheryl wrote.

"Question Eleven," Mallory read. "If you could be any animal what kind of animal would you be and why? What kind of dumb ass question is that?"

"I would be a **human being**!" Archer wrote. "Because humans **are** animals and we totally kick ass! Except for Alligators. Maybe a human/alligator hybrid but that's pretty much a statistical impossibility."

"Or **is** it?" Krieger thought aloud. "Seriously a radioactive mutant dinosaur is considered an animal right? Of course it is."

"Vampire cow!" Pam wrote. "That drinks human blood. I kind of like the whole karma aspect of it."

"A cat," Ray wrote. "Because they have nine lives and the one I have now sucks."

"An alligator," Cyril thought. "So I can tear Archer to pieces! MUAH HA HA HA! Yeah that'd be cool!"

"I would be…" Mallory wrote. "A purebred Afghan hound. Just my beloved dog Duchess."

"I dunno. Some kind of flying unicorn thing?" Lana shrugged. "That would be pretty cool. And I could use my horn to stab Archer."

"I wanna say spoon," Cheryl thought hard. "Yeah spoon covers it."

"Question Twelve," Mallory read. "How many dumb ass questions are there on this stupid form? That's what **I'm asking**!"

"Question Twelve," Lana read. "Finish this sentence. When I really like something I….Uh. Gee what do I like?"

"Buy as many bottles of it as I can," Archer wrote.

"Ask him for a date," Ray wrote.

"Overindulge until I pass out," Pam wrote.

"Clone it!" Krieger wrote. "And then dissect the clone to see what makes it tick!"

"Set it on fire!" Cheryl wrote.

"Keep it all to myself," Mallory wrote.

"Enjoy it while it lasts because odds are something horrible will happen that will ruin the whole experience," Cyril wrote.

"Oh. I tell people about it," Lana wrote. "Repeatedly because they often don't know what's good for them and I have to remind them. Because that's my role around here, telling idiots what **not** to do!"

"On to Question Thirteen," Mallory sighed. "Why does Pam like these damn things? That's the **real question!"**

"Question Thirteen," Pam read aloud. "What is your favorite recreational activity? That's easy! Sex! I love these things! And I love sex!"

"Sex," Ray wrote.

"Sex," Archer wrote. "Duh!"

"Sex," Krieger wrote.

"Sex," Cyril wrote.

"Sex," Lana admitted.

"Sex," Mallory wrote.

"Setting something on fire," Cheryl wrote. "While having sex."

"Question Fourteen," Mallory read. "What is the most enjoyable part of your job? Shooting people while getting paid an obscene amount of money for it. Duh!"

"Drinking and having sex on the job and doing barely any work at all," Pam wrote.

"Travelling all over the world having different sex with different women," Archer wrote. "As well as trying new and exciting cocktails."

"Making the world a better place," Lana wrote. "Who am I kidding? Even I don't buy **that** one! But I'm not putting down drinking and having sex on the job."

"Drinking and having sex on the job," Cyril wrote.

"Drinking and having sex on the job," Ray wrote.

"Doing unspeakable experiments on someone else's dime," Krieger wrote. "As well as drinking and having sex on the job."

"Drinking, having sex on the job," Cheryl wrote. "While secretly plotting on how to take over the agency and burn it to the ground."

"Question Fifteen," Lana read. "What is the worst part of your job? That's easy. Working with both Mallory and Sterling Archer."

"Working with both Archers," Ray wrote.

"Working for Ms. Archer and dealing with her idiot son," Pam wrote.

"Working for Ms. Archer and her idiot narcissistic self-absorbed asshole of a son," Cheryl wrote.

"Working for and with Mallory and Sterling Archer," Cyril wrote. "Praying for them to die in a horrible accident but they never do."

"Working with both Archers," Krieger wrote. "Both Sterling and his mother are real pains in the ass."

"Working with idiots, in particular my son," Mallory wrote. "The biggest idiot of them all."

"Filling out pointless forms," Archer wrote. "On to Question Sixteen. Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert? Who cares what you think Dumb Ass? I'm great!"

"I'm not really sure," Cyril wrote. "I need to think about it."

"I have to be both because I'm a spymaster and I need to learn to hide my true feelings," Mallory wrote. "Like utter distain for the idiot who came up with this ridiculous questionnaire!"

"Extrovert, definitely," Ray snorted. "Especially on Karaoke Night at the Snug."

"Introverted," Pam said. Of course she had taken off her blouse and skirt because she was warm and was now only wearing her bra and underwear.

"I prefer to think of myself as a deep thinker," Krieger wrote. "But only after I act."

"I don't believe in labels," Lana wrote.

"I don't know what either of those words mean," Cheryl wrote. "I just do what I want and don't think about it."

"Question Seventeen," Mallory read. "Oh God the stupidity just keeps on coming. On a scale of one to five with one the lowest and five the highest describe how confident you are and why?"

Mallory thought for a moment and wrote. "I'm confident enough to tell you to blow this stupid questionnaire out your ass! You're not my supervisor!"

"I am one hundred and fifty nine degrees of confidence baby!" Archer wrote. "I took a point off because there's always room for improvement."

"Five. Usually," Lana wrote. "Some days I'm a four or a three but that's normal right? Nobody is that confident all the time. Unless they're a delusional homicidal maniac."

"Five," Cheryl wrote.

"Five," Pam wrote.

"Five," Krieger wrote.

"Depends if I'm paralyzed or not," Ray wrote.

"I am highly confident that I am…" Cyril wrote. "A one. Damn."

"Question Eighteen," Mallory read. "What would you change about yourself and why? I'd be younger and richer. For obvious reasons. And barren. If you met my son you'd know why."

"Uh nothing," Archer wrote. "Because I'm awesome! Wait, the tinnitus. Definitely get rid of the tinnitus. Other than that…"

"I am completely and totally perfect," Cheryl wrote. "Except I can't fly or teleport. That would be awesome."

"Change pretty much everything actually," Cyril sighed. "God I hate my life."

"I'd change my career and my life so that I would never have met most of these assholes," Ray wrote.

"I'd change the fact that I'm still hung up on Archer," Lana admitted. "And maybe…smaller hands."

"If I could change anything about myself I'd be an only child," Pam wrote.

"I'd give myself gills!" Krieger wrote. "Because you know…? Global warming. Melting icecaps. It's only a matter of time. Hmmm…I'd better start working on that."

"Question Nineteen," Cyril read. "What do you like most about yourself and why? Wow. This is a tough question."

"I love everything about myself," Archer shrugged. "I'm the world's greatest spy. What's there **not** to like?"

"I love the fact that I am a strong confident woman," Lana wrote. "And even though my hands are huge I can crush a pool ball into dust."

"I love the fact that my dick is bigger than Archer's," Cyril wrote. "Ha!"

"I like the fact that half of these idiots will probably die before I will," Mallory wrote. "That includes Sterling."

"I love the fact that I can create wondrous amazing gifts of science," Krieger wrote. "Like vibrating vaginas and dicks."

"I love the fact that I'm the smartest person here," Cheryl wrote.

"I love the fact that my dick can now vibrate," Ray admitted. "For obvious reasons."

"Question Twenty," Mallory read. " **Finally**! Who is the one co-worker you most relate to? No one. I have no peers."

"Archer," Lana wrote. "Oh dear God I most relate to Archer. That's scary."

"Lana," Archer wrote. "Oh dear God I most relate to Lana. That's scary."

"I relate to Pam!" Cheryl wrote.

"I relate to both Archer and Cheryl," Pam wrote. "Basically because they're both hot."

"I most relate to my hologram girlfriend/wife," Krieger said.

"Ray," Cyril wrote. "Oh dear God that's scary."

"Milton," Ray groaned.

A few minutes later…

"So wait what are we doing with those stupid forms now?" Archer asked. The gang was hanging around the bullpen.

"Yeah I mean couldn't we have shredded them **before** we had to write on them?" Cheryl asked.

"That would have been a time saver," Cyril agreed.

"I know, right?" Cheryl said.

"This isn't a shredder!" Krieger pointed to the machine on one of the desks in the bullpen.

"Too bad," Ray quipped.

"I thought it might be fun to give these answers a test run in my Krieger Personal Evaluator 5000," Krieger said. "Just to give us an idea of who's crazy and who isn't."

"Actually that's not a bad idea," Lana admitted. "I mean just to give us an idea how we might be evaluated by the CIA."

"Oh come on Lana that's…" Archer began when he noticed something. "Pam why are you in your underwear?"

"Eh. Just felt like it I guess," Pam shrugged.

"As I was going to say…" Archer blinked. "That might not be the worst idea in the world. You know to see which one of us is crazy."

"Not exactly that difficult but it will be nice to have it on paper," Mallory looked at Pam in distain. "In case we need to prove it to a judge."

"All right I'll just feed these tests into the slot right here," Krieger did so. "And the machine will scan the answers and run them through the database. Then the highly sophisticated computer will analyze the results and…"

POP! POP! FIZZLE!

The machine started to shake and spark. Then smoke started to come out of it. "Oh that is **not good** ," Krieger winced.

"So it's not supposed to do that?" Archer asked.

"No, it's not," Krieger winced as it fizzled again.

POP! POP! FIZZLE! SCRREECH! OOOHGAH OOOHGAH!

"What is **that** noise?" Pam held her hands over her ears.

"Uh that's the insanity overload alarm," Krieger winced as he turned the machine off. Then he looked at a piece of paper that shot out of the machine. "Uh oh…"

"Let me guess," Lana sighed. "Some people here are so insane they overloaded the machine."

"Good guess," Krieger winced as he read the paper. "And very accurate."

"I knew it!" Lana grumbled. "I knew you people are so crazy…"

"Actually according to these results you and Mallory are both the craziest people here," Krieger read. "Admittedly not by much. Only by one percent but still…"

"Wait WHAT?" Both Lana and Mallory shouted at the same time.

"I am **nothing** like her!" Mallory and Lana shouted at the same time while pointing to each other.

"What do you mean you're **nothing** like me?" Both shouted at the same time to each other. "You could do far worse than…? Stop that! What the…? Cut it out!"

"This pretty much confirms what I've noticed the past couple of years," Cyril sighed.

"Me too," Ray admitted.

"I am **not** her!" Mallory and Lana pointed to each other. "Stop it!"

"Ladies and gentlemen I give you Exhibit A," Ray pointed.

"Mother all that's missing is you and Harpo doing the mirror bit," Archer snorted as he pointed at Lana. "From Duck Soup? Remember that movie?"

"According to these computer results we are all self-centered sex addicted lunatics with very few morals," Krieger read. "And a possible threat to ourselves and everyone around us!"

"Yeah? So?" Pam asked.

"Oh what do those stupid tests know?" Cheryl waved. "I've been hearing those same test results for years and I'm perfectly fine!"

"We can never show the CIA these forms can we?" Lana realized.

"Uh no unless we all want to spend a weekend in the nuthouse!" Archer snapped.

"It's not that bad," Cheryl spoke up. "Depends on what kind of lunches they're serving."

"A weekend?" Krieger gave them a look. "We'll be lucky if they don't throw away the key! Unless the key is thrown by our cells in a stroke of luck…"

"He's right," Mallory admitted. "The CIA will rescind their backing of this agency faster than you can say 'deranged mental patient escapee.' So there's only one thing to do…Cheryl. Plan F!"

"What's Plan…?" Ray began when he saw Mallory hand Cheryl a lighter. "Oh dear sweet Jesus I just **figured it out**!"

"NO! NO! NO! WAIT!" Krieger pleaded.

Too late, Cheryl set fire to the machine. "You could have waited until I got the forms out of the machine!" Krieger snapped.

"This is more fun," Cheryl shrugged. Then giggled madly with glee.

"YOU MANIAC! GOD DAMN IT TO HELL!" Krieger wailed as he dropped to his knees and pounded the floor with his fists.

"I'll go get the fire extinguisher," Ray sighed in resignation and went to get it.

"If anyone asks we'll say Cheryl set fire to the forms which is the truth," Mallory said. "And if they send any more forms we'll just make up some other excuse until they stop sending them."

"You realized if you just listened to me in the **first place** we could have avoided this whole thing and not wasted about an hour of our time!" Archer barked at his mother. "And this is **exactly** what I said would happen!"

"Well now you know what it's like to be Lana!" Pam said cheerfully.

"I do rather feel kind of self-righteous and more judgmental than usual," Archer realized. "Feels kind of good. No wonder you lecture people so much Lana! Now I know!"

"And knowing is a damn good reason to get a drink," Lana moaned.

"You said it sister," Mallory admitted.


End file.
